A Reference to Life and Love
by Zo One
Summary: A compilation of USUKUS drabbles. Rated from K to M.
1. Kingdom

_Babbling Notes: _These drabbles - well, some are pretty long... yeah. Anyway, these come from my tumblr after requests or prompts and so forth. I'm posting them here so that they'll all be in one spot. :3 I'd like to kick this off with a longer one, although the drabbles range from legit one-shots to fluffy less than 1000 words. Please enjoy~! :D

**Kingdom Prompt**

Becoming a Knight was the best thing that ever happened to him. He was a hero to the people. They looked up to him, admired him, and even gave him free food when he was hungry out of sheer kindness. Women giggled and blushed at him as he rode through villages and towns, fluttering their dark lashes and pouting their full, pink lips. If he could go back in time he'd definitely go through the years and years of grueling training all over again; without a doubt.

But what had to be the greatest perk of being a Royal Knight wasn't the adoring public or the wanton girls, but it was the armor. Or better yet, it was the blacksmith that had been issued to the Knights to craft their armor and weapons. The man's name was Arthur Kirkland, and he was by far the most talented smith he'd ever met in his travels. His suits fit like a second skin, the hilt of his sword was perfectly balanced in his grip, and even his boots were detailed with minute embellishments that made it stand out without being too overpowering on the eyes. He smiled happily. Nothing could possibly be better.

His stallion brayed as he entered the town, lightly tapping his heels into the steed's sides as it attempted to stop and take an apple from a child that was running too close. The capital city was always a busy, touch-and-go place for him. People of all walks of life scattered about the cobbled streets, talking, gossiping, and vending their wares. He was only here to receive his new orders from the Royals and then to make a mandatory stop at the smithy.

And excited grin made its way onto his face as he saw the familiar cloud of smoke and embers in the sky. Maybe he should stop by the smithy first just to say hello…

"Sir Knight! Sir Knight!"

Reluctantly he eased his stallion into a slow halt, glancing around the busy marketplace until he spotted a young girl running up to him, a loaf of bread held in the cusp of her lifted skirts. "Ah, hello, how do you fare?" he asked as sincerely as he could muster, as was expected of him (or at he liked to believe so. Knights were the protectors of the people and therefore should be kind and caring towards them).

The girl blushed a bit, stopping next to the stallion with a small "eep" noise that she covered with her hand. "I am well, Sir Knight! U-uh, my mother… She pulled this loaf from the oven just now, so it is still warm and sweet. She wanted me to give it to you as thanks, for helping us."

"Thank you!" he chirped, accepting the tender loaf and wrapping it in a spare linen cloth from his saddlebags. He had learned a long time ago that refusing gifts from the villagers would most like upset them, and he was never one to turn down free food. "Tell you mother it is greatly appreciated."

"Of course!" The girl then skipped off into the crowd, her yellow skirts swaying as she did so.

He made sure to watch her just enough to assure she wasn't harmed before turning back around to face the smithy. His heart nearly skipped a beat when he caught sight of that shock of brilliant blond hair, laced with soot, and a familiar scowl of disappointment. Hurriedly he kicked his stallion back into motion as that face disappeared back into the smithy. With ease he slid off his mount and hitched him up to a nearby prong.

The smithy was sooty and warm, just as it always was, and he took a nostalgic breath, smelling the burnt iron and ores as if it were the one thing that reminded him of home. "Hey! I'm back from my tour!" he called into the shop, completely ignoring the fact that the blacksmith he so adored was standing a few feet or so from him, pretending to check a sword for flaws. Of course anything Arthur Kirkland made was flawless.

"Quite finished chasing the town's skirts, then, are you?" was the standoffish reply. Arthur set the sword down with a grimace. "This one's complete rubbish."

He only laughed off the hostility, clapping the smith on the back and grinning. "Pshaw, your work is the best out there! It's fantastic and you know it – and I have my life to prove it!"

Arthur's glare softened at the last remark, his vivid green eyes boring into his own. "Alfred… Are you harmed?" A skillful hand came up to touch his arm gently.

Even though he couldn't feel it, he imagined that Arthur's hand was warm and calloused against his skin and he smiled. "Perfectly fine thanks to you. I took an arrow in the shoulder joint from some bandit on one of the outskirt towns. It barely bled – hardly even a scar." He paused before placing his gloved hand over Arthur's. "But I've gotta get to the outpost and find out what my new orders are. Maybe… maybe this time they'll give me a capital job."

"Don't get your hopes up," Arthur grumbled as he wrenched his hand away. "Now be off with you before you get us both in trouble with your dawdling."

Alfred chuckled and nodded. "Yes, yes. I'll be back before you know it. I'm going to need some… adjustments."

There was no verbal response from the blacksmith, only a sharp nod of his head and a devious smirk on his bow-shaped lips. Alfred made a quick escape back out into the open air. He'd forgotten exactly how _hot_ it could get inside that shop.

His orders always came in the form of a rolled parchment sealed with bright blue wax and the Royal crest that would be delivered to him by a squire once he'd announced his return. Normally it came with a sum of money that he was permitted to spend in any way he wished. It was like congratulatory coin for surviving his last errand, other than his usual stipend.

The young squire handed him the pouch and parchment with a sniff and a nod, that which Alfred found to be oddly rude and decided that if _someone_ needed a hero to save their oily ass, he'd find a way to not be present.

With a tiny frown he counted the coins as he walked back to the stables. Twelve coppers for every bandit slain, five coppers for each dispute settled in the name of the Crown, nine coppers bonus for each week that was spent away. In total he found himself with twenty gold. Not bad, considering he could have easily died towards the end there. He really did owe Arthur his life this time.

With his thoughts drifting towards the abrasive blacksmith, he made his way into the stables and mounted his horse, tucking his new, unopened orders into the loop of his sword belt.

He made his way back to the market easily enough, browsing the shops now that he had coin and most of the morning crowds had thinned. Most of the best produce had been picked through by the early arrivals, but there were still some fresh fruits and juicy meats to choose from, and he filled his saddlebags with food enough for the next couple days that he'd be spending in the city before heading out again.

Finally he couldn't press the matter of visiting Arthur off any further and he led his stallion through the market by his reins, hitching him up behind the shop and removing the saddlebags with a grunt. Maybe he'd bought more than he thought he had.

With his saddlebags over his shoulder, he entered the smithy with a grin, slightly put off to see Arthur busy with a client, nodding with jerky bobs of his head as the patron rambled off desires and instructions. He tried to set the saddlebags off in the corner without making too much noise, but it was difficult to remain silent in clicking chainmail.

"Oh! Sir Knight! I did not see you there!" the client said suddenly, stopping in the middle of his sentence, which caused Arthur to scowl over at Alfred.

Alfred smiled amiably. "Oh, don't worry about me, sir! I'm waiting for adjustments to my armor, so I'll be here awhile. Don't mind me!"

The client nodded respectfully before pulling a folded piece of paper, explaining that it had all of his requests written within, which earned yet another irritated look from the blacksmith. The man gave Alfred a short tip of his hat and left.

"Your doors aren't closed yet?" Alfred said with a slight hitching whine in his voice, approaching Arthur with a pout. "I've been waiting _all day_."

Arthur snorted. "It isn't even sundown, fool. Now, do come here and let me see your armor. I'm assuming there's damage to the shoulder plates?"

"Yeah…" Alfred fished the piece of armor in question from his saddlebags. He fidgeted a bit before finally relinquishing the metal over to Arthur.

Arthur's breathed hitched as his long, hard worked fingers brushed over the jointed metal plates. "Alfred… it's… completely penetrated… mangled beyond use! How did you…?" His sharp green eyes found Alfred's blue ones. "Let me see the scar."

Alfred hesitated momentarily. "Oh… it's not that bad, I promise. You don't need to –"

"_Now_." Quickly the blacksmith strode across the room and closed the wide, double doors of the shop that let out much of the forge's heat. "Show me."

Finding little room to argue, Alfred pulled off his blue tunic followed by his shirt of chainmail. In front of Arthur he'd always felt exposed, but almost in a good way. Like the smith could see into his very soul and still accepted him, despite the scars, both physical and emotional. "Look, Arthur, I'm just fine. It wasn't that bad, honestly…"

Arthur only shook his head, the pads of his fingers tracing over the still pink scar, puckered slightly at the edges. The scar was raw and marred Alfred's tanned flesh in ugly, angry lashes. The arrow hadn't made a clean entrance, and it didn't look like it made a clean exit, either. "Love, this is no small thing…"

"Yes it is! Without that armor you made me, that arrow woulda gone straight through the bone and everything. I'd be either dead or out of commission. So, in comparison, this is nothing and I honestly owe you my life."

The blacksmith closed his eyes for a moment. "If only I could craft something impenetrable …" he murmured as he wrapped his arms about Alfred's neck, nuzzling his face into the junction of his shoulder. "Nothing would ever harm you, then."

"Hey, I'm still here, yeah? Don't worry so much!" Alfred laughed breathily as Arthur only harrumphed into his skin. "I missed you," he mumbled, wrapping his arms around Arthur's chest.

Arthur picked his head up to look Alfred in the eye. "Nine months in an awfully long time."

"Yeah. It just seems like the quests get longer and longer…" He frowned a bit. "But I don't wanna think about that right now. Can we just enjoy our time together?"

"I suppose I can have that arranged." Arthur smiled lightly and leaned upwards, capturing Alfred's lips in a tender, loving kiss, filled with the loneliness and sadness he'd experienced while waiting for the Knight to return. "So, did you bring something to eat? I imagined you would, as you always do," Arthur said teasingly as he pulled away.

Alfred's eyes were half closed, still leaning into the spot where the kiss had taken place. "Mhm… Can I have another one?"

With a roll of his eyes, Arthur indulged the Knight before fetching the saddlebags. He rummaged through them before nodding in approval, picking up the heavily laden bags and carrying them into the adjacent rooms next to the forge. All the while Alfred admired the blacksmith's muscular frame, garnered from years of hard work, although he was always proud to boast that his own muscles were larger. Arthur had always simply shaken his head at him and called him vain, and maybe he was, but he knew Arthur liked it.

The forge let off a constant heat, despite the iron doors being shut tightly. It was a godsend in the winter and almost a torturous hell in the summer. When he was younger he had spent most of his days at the smithy in the small village where he grew up, admiring the weapons and armor and tools that the smith had made from what looked like completely useless ores and hunks of rough metals. He had been thoroughly enraptured by the art, often proclaiming that one day he'd use all those swords and weapons within the shop.

He remembered when he'd told that to Arthur for the first time. The blacksmith had simply laughed at him, told him he'd be dead if he didn't choose _one_ weapon and master it. "Jack of all trades, Master of none," he'd said. Alfred had taken it to heart.

"It's still early for dinner, but have a spot of something," Arthur said as he re-entered the workshop and handed Alfred a slice of bread and a chunk of cheese. "Although I'm sure you've had plenty throughout the day to tide you over."

Alfred grinned and accepted the food happily. "What can I say, I'm a growing boy!"

Arthur scoffed. "You're three and twenty. If you grow any more, it'll be sideways."

They shared a laugh before eating in companionable silence. The forge groaned with heat and Alfred broke the silence with a tiny sigh. "Sometimes I wish I'd never become a Knight, so I didn't have to leave you all the time. How do I know if some pretty lady is trying to court you?"

"If you'd never become a Knight, we'd never had met, dolt. And allay your fears. No one would attempt to court me, being as dull and grouse as I am."

Arthur was taken by surprise when Alfred wrapped his arms about his waist. "No you're not! You're so handsome Arthur, especially after a bath and you comb your hair back. If any lady in her right mind saw that, she'd demand to be married to you right away!" He huffed childishly and kissed Arthur sweetly. "Besides, I courted you, didn't I?"

"Y-you great oaf." The smith flushed, but made no move to remove himself from Alfred's arms. "I'm not some woman who can be wooed with honeyed words."

Alfred's blue eyes shined playfully, the merriness almost seemed to dance within; expectant, happy, excited. "Oh? Then how do I woo you properly?"

"You can start… by finishing your undressing. It's been so long since I've seen you."

The Knight grinned mischievously. "But I haven't seen you either, Arthur! It wouldn't be fair if you got to see all of me, while I see hardly any of you!" His hands, rough and calloused from years of swordplay and fighting, fiddled with Arthur's suspenders, unhitching them from his belt and tossing them to the side. The buttons of his soot-stained linen shirt slowly came undone, one by one, exposing Arthur's creamy chest, unblemished with the exception of one, old, white scar on the inside of his bicep. Alfred kissed the scar, as he always did. It had been from an accident with the forge, a constant reminder that Arthur's job wasn't exactly the safest, either.

Arthur kissed him as he worked, wanton kisses on his face and lips and neck. It had felt like years since they'd held one another and even longer since they'd made love.

"In my pocket," Arthur breathed as their shoes and trousers were removed, his hands roaming over Alfred's skin as if it were a painting that could only be admired by touch. His fingers danced into the Knight's hairline as Alfred grunted in acknowledgement, plucking a vial of oil from Arthur's discarded trouser pocket.

"How and where?" Alfred asked once they were both naked and standing flush together, touching, kissing, and licking anything they could.

Arthur didn't respond right away. Instead he pulled Alfred down to the floor on a small rug where his discarded clothes lay. Arthur sat on Alfred's hips, his hands tracing over dusky nipples. "Let me have the oil," he murmured, leaning down to nip at the muscles of Alfred's pectoral.

After a moment of trepidation, Alfred relinquished the vial, settling his hands onto Arthur's hips and rubbing tireless circles into the insides of his thighs. "I missed this," he said softly before Arthur took his lips and a long, loving kiss.

The blacksmith poured the greasy oil into his hand, reaching between their bodies, shifting his stance on his knees a bit to penetrate himself with two fingers. He gasped into the kiss, and Alfred's hands began to trace along his body, from his knees to his shoulders and face and back again, his blue eyes darkened with lust and longing.

Alfred continued to tease him as he prepared himself, calloused fingers flicking at his nipples, rubbing at the head of his cock, teeth nibbling on the juncture of his neck. By the time Arthur was finished, he thought he might explode from a premature orgasm. He grabbed the vial once more and poured more of the oozy liquid into his palm before he took Alfred's cock into his hand and generously rubbed the solution against the Knight's needy erection.

"Are you ready, love?" he asked rhetorically as he positioned himself above Alfred. Before the Knight could answer, he lowered himself onto Alfred's cock, watching as Alfred gasped and his head tilted back with a long, wanton moan. Slowly he lowered himself further and further until he was completely seated with Alfred's girth. "I missed you," he sighed out, adjusting his hips a bit.

"U-uhnn, I missed you s-so much, Arthur. Don't… ever wanna leave… again…" He groaned as Arthur began to lift himself once more, his strong thighs twitching as he began to move faster and faster, his artisan hands spread out across Alfred's chest for balance as he rode the Knight lustfully.

Alfred bucked up into Arthur, seeking more friction, his toes curling in pleasure. The workshop was hot and heady from the forge, bits of stray soot smeared across their warm, sweaty skin. The heat made him feel dizzy, but it seemed to almost triple the pleasure that coursed through his veins.

He came with a stunted cry, his hands twitching their grip on Arthur's shoulders. Once he'd regained control of his motor skills, he reached down for Arthur's cock and stroked it generously, squeezing and rubbing until Arthur came onto his chest with a breathy gasp.

Alfred pulled Arthur into his arms, brushing away a lock of hair laced with soot from his flushed face. "I love you," he whispered tenderly.

"I love you too," Arthur mumbled, squirming into a comfortable position within Alfred's arms. His arm brushed against something unexpected and he picked up his head, his fingers wrapping around Alfred's unopened orders. "What's this?"

The Knight blinked, taking the rolled parchment from Arthur belatedly. With a small, concentrated frown he peeled off the wax stamp and carefully read the script within. Arthur watch Alfred read, the Knight's face slowly changing from a frown to a barely contained grin. "What is it?" he asked repeatedly, only to be shushed each time until Alfred finished reading the entire document. "What does it say, you bloody arse. Why are you grinning like that?"

"Say Arthur, what would say if I told you I'd be stuck in the capital for the next… oh… let's say, _year_?"

The blacksmith paused, disbelieving. He snatched up the orders and read it for himself, a small sheen of tears pestering at the corners of his eyes. "Why… I just might… Will you stay, with me?"

Alfred smiled softly, kissing Arthur on the lips and then the nose. "Only if you'll have me," he muttered.

"I'll have it no other way."

They shared smiles that were bursting with joy and happiness and love, rolling around a bit on the ground and teasing their naked bodies out of sheer relief.

Becoming a Knight had to have been the best decision Alfred had ever made, right after falling in love with Arthur.


	2. Paper Plane

**Paper Plane**

Suggested by fishwichformylove. :3

The key was innovation. The same old thing, something tried and tested; it didn't fly with Alfred. He needed to be innovative, creative, he needed an Earth-shattering, ground-breaking, never-thought-of-before method. He needed to deliver this damn letter before he drove himself crazy.

His hands shook with the slightest hint of anxiety as he began folding the corners of the simple lined paper. Soon he began folding the paper into familiar creases, rubbing the sides of his fist against the paper to ensure that the fold stayed.

Alfred frowned down at the creation in his hands. Well, he supposed it was different. A plane letter it was. And with that he took off down the hallways of his school as the final bell rang, dismissing all students from their last class.

Arthur stood at his locker, twisting the dial of his lock, with an engrained motion. There was a shout of his name through the crowded hallways, and his hand paused as he looked around at equally startled students.

Before he could discern what was happening, something fleeting and white embraced his vision; accompanied by a sharp sting in his eye. "Bloody fuck!" he cursed. A hand swooped up to pull the offending, oddly sharp, paper from his face to rub at his sore eye. He glared around the hall but found no one of suspect.

The paper plane crinkled in his hand and he curiously unfolded the straight creases, reading his name written sloppily on the wings. Nestled within was a simple note and his breath caught as he read it.

_Dear Arthur,_

_I love you. Do you love me too? Please circle your answer…_

_Yes/No_

_Alfred_


	3. Someone Is Jealous

**Someone Is Jealous!**

Suggested by amary-chan! :D

America frowned, slurping rather violently on his straw. Canada's fingers wove together in a rather insecure and worried gesture, glancing at his brother with a confused expression. "America?" he asked quietly, moving a bit closer on the velveteen couch.

"Hm?" France's house was extravagant in all the ways that annoyed America. If it wasn't plush, fluffy, an oil painting, or carved from marble, it had no home among the excess of the country's home. America glared at the billowing purple drapes that covered the windows in such a way that allowed only a crack of sunshine into the room, conveniently landing on a prism rock and sending rainbow refractions about the sitting room.

Canada sighed, leaning forward so his elbows rested on his knees. "Is something the matter?"

Across the room England was speaking to France in hushed tones, their foreheads nearly touching as they fought to control the volume of their voices. They might've been fighting for all America knew, but they could've been talking about _anything_ as well. He crossed his legs and slurped again. "Nothing's up. I'm just waiting."

"Oh…" Canada's eyes followed America's sharpened gaze, watching as England hissed something out, his thick brows knitting together in obvious frustration. "What do you think they're arguing about, eh?" he mumbled sitting back and resting his head on America's broad shoulder. It had been a long, grueling day of politicking that never seemed to end and is all he wanted to do was go to the hotel and sleep.

America's loud slurping stopped and he glanced down at Canada, missing England's startled look. "Tired?" America asked softly, setting down his practically empty coke on the coffee table, purposefully not using an ornate coaster. He'll leave water rings where ever the hell he wanted. When Canada nodded mutely, America sighed. "I guess we should head –"

"Let's go." The two North American countries looked up, equally surprised. England towered over them, his expression darkening as he looked down at them. "To the hotel; let's go."

Canada was the first to stand, dusting off the seat of his pants and suppressing a yawn. England gave him a curt nod before looking at America. "About time…" America grumbled stiffly, standing up and stretching. He left his soda on the coffee table, figuring that France deserved it anyway.

The taxi ride to the hotel was deathly quiet, and no one dared make so much as a noise as they all clambered up the stairs to find their respective rooms.

"Ah… this is my floor, guys… I'll see you… in the… morning…?" Canada slowly trailed off, watching as the other two nations simply continued on without him, their shoulders terse and faces tight. "Ah, well. I wish I had Kumamotigo with me to keep me company…"

After three more flights, America simply couldn't take it anymore. "You're awfully close to France," he bit out, his face steeling even more at the sound of his voice bouncing off the stairwell walls.

England huffed, pushing open a landing door and pulling America through with him. "And you and Canada seem to be just peachy together, don't you agree?"

America frowned. "We're brothers."

"We were, too; once."

They both crossed their arms hotly at the accusation. "That's disgusting. Canada is like – no. I'm not even going to think about that."

"And that frog is any better? I'd rather drink swill from the loo than touch him." England tried to keep a composed face as America slowly broke into a strangled guffaw, unable to remain serious. "Honestly America, it wasn't much to take that step from brother to lover, was it?"

America sighed, rubbing amused tears from his eyes. Finding no other alternative, he wrapped his arms around England's shoulders. "You were always my lover, England. Even before I knew what a lover was. I've told you this like, a bazillion times. You don't need to get jealous over _Canadia_ of all people, sheesh."

England relaxed in America's arms, settling his chin on the taller country's shoulder. "Yes, yes, same goes for France. If we didn't have to share the Navy…" he grumbled something unintelligible. "Just… promise me something?"

"Hm… sure."

England leaned back a bit, catching America's eyes with his own. "Never leave me?"

A soft smile spread across America's mouth. "I've already promised that, but I'll do it again – if only you promise the same for me."

"Consider it done."

Hopefully this argument wouldn't come up again for another decade or so – America didn't think it would go over as well as it did this time.

With sated grins they sealed the promise with a kiss, fingers entwining before continuing on their way to their rooms.


	4. Teddy Bear

**Teddy Bear**

Suggested by ninjapanda17! ^-^

Ever since he was young, Alfred had slept with a stuffed bear wrapped securely in his arms. They fought off the monsters and nightmares that crept up on him in his sleep and he absolutely _would not_ under _any _circumstance, sleep without one after watching a scary movie. It was a habit that he had carried with him through his years, and the only people that had ever known were his Mother (who thought it was absolutely_adorable _that her tough little boy still had a soft spot) and his brother Matthew, who had the same problem.

Alfred had tried to quit sleeping with teddy bears, only to find himself in a scare whenever the lights were out and he could have _sworn _the closet door was slowly, ever so slowly, inching open.

And now that he was a university student living in the dorms with his, well, lover he supposed would be correct term; it was even more difficult to try and conceal his childish habits. Arthur had a knack for picking apart his worst habits (elbows on the table while eating, talking too loudly, hiding snacks so he wouldn't have to share, etc.) and Alfred was near _terrified _to find out his boyfriends reaction.

That weekend Arthur had come back to the dorm room with a DVD case in one hand and a bag of M&M's in the other. "Um, er… I thought we'd do something… special, for our three month?" he had explained awkwardly, tapping the toe of his shoe on the floor. "I'm sure you like M&M's…"

Alfred couldn't bring himself to disagree at that, fearing that Arthur might feel rejected if he said no. He had pulled Arthur into an excited hug, kissing the British exchange student on the face until they were both reduced to goofy giggles.

He only regretted his decision once Arthur had put the movie into the DVD player as they huddled together on their pushed-together beds; the open bag of M&M's the only thing separating their chests beneath the blankets. Of course it just _had _to be the most horrifically frightening thing Alfred had ever seen in his life, and he clutched to the Briton with a steely grip throughout the entire thing. Arthur had simply chuckled at him, allowing him to cling and hide his face, but not without making a few snide remarks at his childishness.

Alfred frowned, if only Arthur really knew.

That night he gathered a large wad of his blankets, holding it to his chest as if to replicate the feeling and shape of his childhood comfort, but to no avail. The wind howled eerily outside their window, and he could have sworn he heard strange popping noises coming from absolutely nowhere whenever he closed his eyes. He sat up in his bed, his blue eyes scanning the darkened room before him.

_Clink._

With an unmanly "eep", he scuttled over to Arthur's side of the bed, hiding under Arthur's blanket and shaking the Briton with a sense of urgency and desperation. "Arthur, Arthur, oh my god, Arthur wake up! _Arthurrr!_"

Arthur rolled to face him with a sleepy groan. "Wot ish it?" he mumbled, his accent thick and tired. Alfred would have smiled if he wasn't so scared shitless.

"Look, I have a secret and I'm only gunna tell you this once because I'm pretty sure I'm going to die, but okay, I used to sleep with a stuffed bear and shit when I was a kid 'coz they chase off nightmares and monsters and like I left my bear at home 'coz yanno I'm a man and well, men don't need teddy bears but like fuck Arthur what if those zombies are real and holy shit we're gunna _die_!"

Arthur's green eyes were wide and strange in the darkness of the dorm and for a moment Alfred was positive that his boyfriend was going to laugh and kick him out of the bed. But instead Arthur sighed, wrapping his arms around Alfred and tucking the American's head against his chest, so perfectly that his forehead nestled against Arthur's collarbone and his arm made a comfortable pillow to sleep on. "There's nothing to fear, love," Arthur murmured, his voice laced with sleep. "I assure you the zombie are not real. And no monster shall touch even a hair on your head. Not on my watch."

Alfred sighed deeply into Arthur's skin, allowing his limbs to relax, and focusing his hearing on Arthur's steady breathing. He may not have a teddy bear to hold, but now he had something better.

"I love you…" he whispered before drifting off into sleep, unaware of the light smile that spread across Arthur's face.

* * *

><p>Hey guys! I just wanted to drop a thank you for reading these! :D They can all be found on my tumblr at <em>prnd . tumblr . com<em>, where I take drabble and one-shot requests. :3 Thank you guys so much! :D


	5. Heartbreak Coffee

**Heartbreak Coffee**

As suggested by deadpokerface!

Alfred trudged down the street, the soles of his shoes slapping loudly against the damp pavement. The sky was overcast and gray, a small drizzle pouring over the city. His hair was wet, but he didn't care. His glasses fogged, but he didn't feel the need to see. The weather reflected his mood and he sighed, his chin dropping lower as he passed up a couple of women who began whispering feverishly as they walked by. They were probably wondering why he didn't even bother with a coat.

He wandered the streets aimlessly until he finally shivered; his body stiff with cold and neglect. Alfred sniffed miserably and made his way into the nearest shop, both surprised and lightly relieved that it was a quaint coffee shop. There was a small din within and he sat himself down in a booth by the window, folding his hands together and resting his head.

Heartbreak was something he never thought he'd have to deal with, and it was like a cold stone in his chest and smoke in his mind. He felt sick, but healthy enough to function; and to him, that was the worst feeling of all.

"Excuse me, sir…?" Alfred looked up to see a man standing over his booth, dressed sharply in slacks and a white button up blouse, an apron tied neatly about his torso. "Hello, I was checking to see if you were alright. Ah… you seem distraught."

Alfred blinked at the man, peeling his hands apart to scratch at his damp hair with a grimace. The guy had the thickest accent he'd ever heard, and it brought an awkward, squirming smile to his face. "Oh… I'm sure I'll survive. Thanks, dude."

The man frowned. "Can I get you anything, then?" he asked steadily. His hands were long with narrow fingers that curled around the hem of his pocket as he waited for an answer. Alfred stared for a moment, completely unused to the attention and the kind, almost aloof concern that resonated through the man's accent.

"Oh, uhm…" He felt his pockets for his wallet, touching it lightly for assurance that he'd brought it with him and said, "Just black coffee is fine, thanks."

The man left with a quick nod and Alfred sighed, turning his blue eyes out the window to people watch. Couples and friends huddled under umbrellas as the rain began to come down harder, sheets of water spreading along the roads for cars to blaze through, kicking up puddles as they went. He supposed he'd pick up a newspaper and make a mad dash home; alone. To his now empty home. He sighed again.

His thoughts were interrupted as a tall cup of coffee was placed before him and the man sat in the seat across from him, his long fingers wrapped around a cup as well. "I'm off now," the man explained when Alfred gave him a curious look. "The rain is worsening…"

"Yeah…" Alfred pulled the hot coffee to his face, simply letting the steam waft upwards and warm his cheeks. "Say… have you… ever had your heart broken before?" he asked sullenly, letting his eyes wander back outside to avoid looking at the man across from him.

"Ah…" The man hummed lightly, reaching up to swat away a lock of sunshine yellow hair from his forehead. "I admit I have… recently in fact. It never gets easier…" He looked down at his watch with a grimace. "I must dash, however…" Slowly, cautiously, he reached across the table and laid his hand on top of Alfred's, smiling when Alfred didn't flinch away. "I'm sure you'll find someone who'll own your heart, and will treat it as a precious treasure."

Alfred blinked, his eyes focusing back on the blond as he stood from the table, pressing wrinkles from his slacks and walking away. His sight fell back onto his untouched coffee, watching a few bubbles stir and pop. He wondered if he'd ever find someone that would actually think that – that his heart was a treasure.

"Here, I forgot your napkin." The man stopped by his booth once again, sliding the white paper towards him with a tilt of his head. Before Alfred could even thank him, he left, opening his umbrella and stepping outside.

Curious, Alfred picked up the napkin, inspecting the other side to see neat, swooping handwriting that read:

_Dear lonely boy,_

_Let's be lonely together. I'm sure you're precious. Drop me a ring at XXX-XXX-XXXX._

_Arthur Kirkland_

A slow, disbelieving smile crawled onto his face. Maybe he really already found that someone.


	6. A Single Red Rose

A Single Red Rose: for Bia!

The phone buzzed in the next room, pulling Arthur from his stupor. He sat on his sofa, his embroidery in hand, but no stitching was being done. The phone buzzed again and he set aside his work to stand, pulling the wrinkles from his vest and answering the phone.

"Hullo?" he answered, his voice slightly slurred with sleep and a bit of something else that he couldn't quite place.

"_Hey, Arthur! It's me. I was wondering if you'd like to take a walk with me." _The voice on the other line was chipper and wavered time to time, but Arthur passed it off as static from the phone.

He stole a quick glance at his watch. "Alfred," he started with a sigh, "It's well after eight at night and it's already dark."

There was a whine from Alfred. _"But _Arthur, _why not? Please go for a walk with me? I promise we'll stay close to home and under street lamps at all times. _Please_?"_

"I… what are you trying to accomplish, here?" he asked snappishly, hoping to change the subject. He was tired. He should go to bed and forget about his dreadfully lonely day.

Alfred chuckled softly. _"Just tryin' to get you to take a walk with me is all. So, will ya?"_

Arthur bit his lower lip, looking at the clock once more. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt…" Alfred made a triumphant noise on the other line and Arthur shook his head. The blond American had transferred to his University just last semester, and even though Arthur lived in a flat a distance away and Alfred lived on campus, they'd bonded quickly during their shared history class and managed to spend as much time together as they dared.

"_Awesome! I'll stop by your place in five minutes. I'm already on my way! Good thing you agreed, huh?"_

Arthur shook his head with a tiny smile. "I suppose so." They said their respective farewells and Arthur pulled on his wool overcoat, slipping his hands into his gloves and wrapping his favorite scarf about his neck. Whoever enjoyed taking walks after dark in the middle of winter was crazy, he told himself as he made his way out of his flat and to the lift. Crazy certainly was a word to describe his American friend.

Alfred met him just inside the doors of his complex, his High School Letterman's jacket an almost black color in the dark of the night. "Hey!" he greeted cheerfully, pulling Arthur into a quick hug that had become customary for them, and Arthur passed off as an American thing.

"Hello," Arthur responded lightly, tucking his hands into his coat pockets. "Where to?"

The American shrugged. "C'mon, let's go this way."

Arthur nodded and trailed after Alfred down the streets lit with the soft orange glow of street lamps and the half-full moon. Alfred slowed his pace after a while, glancing around once they'd made it a little ways from the city noise and entered a park. "Hey, Arthur?"

"Yes?" The American opened his mouth and then closed it, pressing his hand carefully against his stomach. "Alfred?"

Alfred gave an awkward smile. "So uhm, not to sound rude, but I heard that your douchebag boyfriend dumped you today…"

"Oh…" Arthur's eyes fell to the ground and he pressed a hand to his face. He'd been trying so hard to forget about that, too. "Yes… he did… thank you for that lovely reminder…"

"No, no, no! I didn't mean it like that! I meant it like… uhm… I'm sorry to hear that, but I'm – uhm – shit, I can't say things right, just hear me out okay?"

They had stopped underneath a short, decorative lamp along the trail they took through the park. The soft light made Arthur's hair glow an almost translucent yellow, haloing his head, and to Alfred it was nothing short of perfection. "I'm listening, then," Arthur grumbled bitterly.

The American gave a half smile. "I'm glad," he said, making Arthur's thick brows crease and his frown almost doubled. "Now let me finish! I'm glad 'coz he was a total douchebag and… and he didn't treat you right – take you out for dinner, hold your hand; nothin'. You deserve better, Arthur. A-and, besides what prick dumps someone on Valentine's Day? A loser, that's who." Alfred coughed nervously into his hand, adjusting the glasses on his face quickly. "And now that he's outta the picture… you can get someone better!"

Arthur gave Alfred a scalding look. "Oh, really now? You think some lovely bloke is just going to fall from the sky, pick me up in his arms and say, 'Arthur! I love you! Let's be together forever!' And we can skip off into the sunset and live happily ever after?" He harrumphed. "Not even in _my_ dreams."

Alfred smiled. "Well, not quite like that. How about if some awesome dude flew from America, met you on accident and then fell in love with you but didn't wanna say anything 'coz you were already taken, even though all he wants to do is pick you up in his arms and tell you how much he loves you, and maybe skip off into the sunset with you if you let him?"

"A-Alfred…? What? Y-you…?" Arthur flushed, covering his mouth in shock as his best friend opened his jacket, pulling out a single red rose wrapped in rolled, white paper. The paper and flower were a bit rumpled but were no worse for wear and Arthur took the flower into his hands, lightly touching a petal and smelling the pollen within with a tender smile. "Alfred…"

The American grinned widely. "It's still Valentine's Day. It's a bit late, but Arthur, will you be my Valentine?"

Arthur chuckled, holding the rose to his chest with one hand while his other sought Alfred's. Their fingers intertwined and Arthur blushed. "O-of course I will."

They swayed a little bit under the lamplight, simply admiring one another as if they'd never seen each other before. "I promise I'll treat you right," Alfred murmured, stepping up to Arthur slowly. "You deserve only the best."

"I'll hold you up to that," Arthur whispered in return, tilting his face upwards. "I'm sure you'll do spectacularly."

Alfred smiled, humming his approval before leaning down and kissing Arthur soundly. It was the first of many Valentine's that they would spend together.

* * *

><p>I think I like to write opportunistic!USUK. :o Shame on me... ahah. :)<p> 


	7. Anger

**The Sad Attempt at Angry Porn**

Arthur sighed, peeling his reading glasses from the bridge of his nose and rubbing at his temples. The scene he was trying to write was dreadfully annoying. The characters almost didn't want to react to one another and he thought his eyes were going to cross from sheer frustration at the flat words that decorated the document before him. He dredged up what felt like the last of his energy and stood, tossing his glasses onto the keyboard of his computer before wandering outside of his study.

The telly crinkled with activity, a few strangled sounding screams and groans coming from the speakers. Wonderful, Alfred was working himself into a tizzy over a horror film again. Arthur frowned and stepped into the kitchen, rummaging through the cabinets and plugging in his electric kettle (a godsend on long nights). As the kettle warmed, he found himself a package of biscuits, trying not to make too much noise, but as soon as he'd managed to wrangle the packaging open he heard his name.

"Arthur?"

He stopped, his arms dropping to his sides as he just gave up on everything. Tonight really wasn't his night. He had a due date coming up, his characters were as dull as his boyfriend's grasp on literature, his plot nothing more than noodles in his hands, and is all he wanted to do was hit his face against something. "Yes, Alfred?" he bit the words out, hoping that the American would take a hint, read the atmosphere of the room, notice that he was a little more than upset – just this once.

The American stood in the doorway, adjusting his glasses and running a hand through his dirty blond hair. "Uhm how's the writing going?" he asked, carefully making his way into the kitchen and towards the refrigerator.

"Kill me now," was the bitter response.

Alfred gave an over exaggerated sigh. "It can't be _that_ bad," he started as he looked through the fridge, finding nothing that he wanted before moving onto the freezer, "I mean, at least your computer's not on fire screaming, 'Help me, help me! Arthur can't write worth shit!'"

Arthur shot Alfred a scalding glare. "You wouldn't know the first thing about writing, the finesse and patience it takes to weave together such a complex plot and tying together loose ends seamlessly and – _Alfred!_ Don't leave the freezer sitting open, you twit!"

When Alfred shrugged him off, a pout forming on his lips that was visible from the other side of the room, Arthur felt rather murderous. He stomped across the kitchen and shoved the freezer door shut, nearly pinching Alfred's nose inside. "I said to _close it_."

Alfred's lower lip set stubbornly. "But Arthur… we're out of ice cream." His blue eyes – a shade of blue that even Arthur, in all of his eloquence, couldn't quite describe beyond _free _and _sky_ – wide, searched Arthur's face childishly. "No more ice cream," he repeated again.

"Alfred, it's well after eleven. I'm not going out to get bloody ice cream; go get it yourself. It's not my fault you decided to watch that horror film, you can walk to the store alone." He crossed his arms in a definitive manner and stalked back to the kettle.

Unfortunately, Alfred followed him, tugging on his shirt and trying to give him drooping hugs all in attempts to persuade him to come along. "Please Arthur? You need a break right? A quick walk to the store'll help you clear your head! You should get some fresh air! C'mon, _please_?"

"I said _fuck no_!" Arthur yelled, pounding a fist onto the kitchen counter. Almost immediately Alfred scurried away, his pout more fierce than before. Arthur felt his head ache with rolling tensions and he pushed his way back to his study, completely ignoring his tea in favor of solitude. He pulled up his office chair and picked up his glasses, simply beginning to type in a rage.

_And then Jennifer grabbed the knife and stabbed Richard IN THE FACE BECAUSE SHE REALISED THAT HE WOULD JUST TURN INTO A HUGE BLOODY ARSEHOLE AFTER SEX AND BEG HER FOR FUCKING ICE CREAM BECAUSE HE WOULD BE TOO MUCH OF A LAZY LOUT TO GO AND BUY IT HIMSELF THE FUCKING BASTARD NEEDED TO DIE!_

There was a light knock on the door and Alfred popped his head inside the room. "That wasn't cool, you know," he snubbed. "I just wanted you to know that you're a douchebag and I'm mad at you."

Arthur tensed in front of his computer, waiting for the door to click closed once more before typing again.

AND THEN JENNIFER THREW HIS WRITHING BODY IN THE NEAREST WELL, CACKLING MADLY AT THE RESOUNDING SPLASH! **HOW DARE HE BE MAD AT HER WHEN SHE WAS THE FRUSTRATED ONE TO BEGIN WITH! IT WAS RICHARD'S FAULT! FUCK HIM! **_**FUCK HIM! AEWROI;WPO**_

Arthur slapped his hands down onto the keyboard and stood up. He stalked his way back out of his study and into the sitting room, unsurprised to find Alfred lying on the couch, his arms crossed as he watched yet another horror special with a deep frown on his face. He spotted Arthur with a look of alarm before crossing his arms further and attempted to bury himself into the cushions. "I'm mad at you, remember?" he growled.

"Shut up," Arthur hissed venomously, settling himself on top of Alfred despite his squirming. He pulled the collar of Alfred's hoodie, revealing tanned skin from mornings spent outdoors jogging, and leaned in to bite harshly at Alfred's collarbone. "I'm so fucking mad at you."

Alfred hitched a whine from his throat, shoving at Arthur's shoulders to no avail. Finally he huffed, taking off his glasses and tossing them to the side before stretching upwards and biting the lobe of Arthur's ear in retaliation, his tongue lapping over the golden stud that he'd given his boyfriend on their third anniversary.

Arthur's breaths deepened and his hands frantically went to work, pulling up Alfred's hoodie and pinching roughly at his nipples to get him to let go of his ear. His hands wove into Alfred's sandy hair, pulling at the locks harshly and making Alfred's head tip backwards, exposing his neck. Arthur licked and bit at Alfred's sensitive neck, relishing in every gasp and hot moan. "So fucking mad," he murmured, moving downwards to torture more of Alfred's body.

"Just fucking do me," Alfred insisted, raising up his hips to meet Arthur's in a sloppy grind. "Hnn, fuck me or I'm leaving."

With a particularly harsh nip to Alfred's abs, Arthur snarled out, "I'd like to see you try." He stuffed his hand down the front of Alfred's sweat pants, glad that he didn't allow the American to run around dressed like such a slob. Alfred keened, his hips bucking forward as Arthur pulled off his sweats and boxers, unveiling his throbbing cock.

Arthur slowly licked the underside of Alfred's cock from base to tip; he took the head into his mouth and gave a hard suck, making Alfred hiss in a breath between his teeth. "Fuck. I want to fuck you so fucking much. Fuck, where did you put the condoms?"

Alfred sat up. "I'll grab 'em," he announced, standing up to scuttle off to the stash of condoms by their bedside, but not before swooping down and kissing Arthur, taking a harsh bite at his lower lip and dragging it between his teeth. "Don't miss me."

"Bloody bastard," Arthur grumbled as Alfred nearly fled. He kicked off his loafers and pulled off his trousers and pants, stroking himself lustfully until Alfred returned with a packaged condom between his teeth as he fumbled with a tube of lube in his hands. "Give me that."

Deftly Arthur snatched the condom from Alfred's teeth, the wrapper ripping open with the quick motion. He plucked the condom from within and rolled it onto his cock with a practiced ease. Alfred popped open the lube with a grunt. "What if I wanted to top?" he huffed, standing naked and erect before Arthur.

Arthur shook his head, wrapping his arms about Alfred's waist and yanking him back onto the couch, biting, squeezing and scratching everything he could, enjoying Alfred's mewls and grunts and protests. "Your arse is mine," he growled possessively. He gripped Alfred's butt cheeks, pulling them apart and pressing the head of his cock against Alfred's tight entrance. Alfred had managed to get a hand between them, rubbing Arthur's cock briefly with a lube greased palm.

"Ahhn, Arthur! Haa-!" Alfred exclaimed nonsensically as the Briton thrust in with sudden force. Alfred's nails bit into Arthur's oxford, clawing at Arthur's skin below with strong hands as Arthur began his relentless pace. "Y-you, ah! _Bastard_, hngh! Fu-fucking dick…"

The sound of moist slaps of skin against skin overpowered the soft crinkle of the telly and Arthur bit at the inside of Alfred's thigh, making the American hup and writhe. "You're a brat, a – nnghh – a child. Hn, who needs, ah, bloody ice cream at night?" His brows furrowed in frustration and with a snap of his wrist, he gave Alfred a hard, open palmed smack to the side of his ass, leaving a bright red hand-shaped mark.

"Ho _shit_!"Alfred squeaked, unconsciously thrusting up into Arthur. Tears were beginning to form in the corners of his eyes from the mixture of pleasure and erotic pain, and Alfred hit Arthur on the back none too kindly. "I-I… ohhh… fuck. I go out at, mmnn, odd hours for you-ah-your goddamn _tea_."

Arthur paused for a fraction of a second, his timing thrown off kilter, before he buried his head into Alfred's chest, his hot breaths coming out in staggered pants across Alfred's sticky skin as he neared his climax. "F-fuck you," he breathed. "Don't you _dare_, uhnn, make me out to be-ahh, the bad guy in this." He bit down on Alfred shoulder before saying, "I fucking hate you, uhhaa, d-don't you ever leave me."

Alfred's strong arms wrapped about his shoulders and pulled him close as Arthur's trusts became more and more erratic. "S-stupid ba-ahh… bastard… I'll never leave… not ever… hnng…"

Arthur came with a suppressed grunt, thrusting through his climax until he was completely spent, falling on top of Alfred with a huff. His numb hand reached down to stroke Alfred's weeping cock, his fingers rubbing and squeezing in every way he knew that pleased Alfred.

He smiled when Alfred came with a great sigh, his body wracked with climaxing shivers. Arthur took the opportunity to kiss at every mark, bruise and hickey he'd left on Alfred's skin, slightly apologetic, but not really. Alfred was his; he didn't share – not Alfred nor himself. "Come now, let's clean up."

Later that night, Arthur smiled to himself as he sat on their bed with Alfred's head in his lap. His fingers ran soothing paths through his American's sandy blond hair and it wasn't until he heard Alfred's soft snores that he stopped his ministrations.

Carefully, as to not wake the other, he pulled his laptop from beside the bed and set it next to himself, typing slowly and contentedly.

"_I love you," Jennifer cooed softly, cradling Richard's head against her bosom. He may have acted like a child and a downright nuisance at times, but she knew that despite all odds, they were together. In love, in lust, in hate and in sadness, they held and supported one another._

"I love you."

* * *

><p><em>Quick AN: _A lot of the next chapters will also be M rated... I just write what gets requested. "xD


	8. Take a Picture

**Take a Picture**

As suggested by britaniaangel!

Alfred licked his lips, partially closing his eyes and tilting his head in the exact angle he knew would give his face a darker depth. There was the solid noise of a camera snapping a picture followed the breezy noise of a disappointed sigh. "It's still not right."

"What're you talking about?" Alfred asked incredulously, sitting up to glare at the photographer (and also his boyfriend of three months) through the rims of his glasses – the lenses had long since been removed to prevent light glare and bending of photographic results. "Arthur, I'm givin' ya the best "bedroom eyes" ever seen by man, and you say it's _not right_?"

Arthur shook his head. "You're modeling too much," he grumbled, adjusting the camera in his hands and focusing the lens.

Alfred sighed. "If you haven't noticed, I _am _a model. Modeling is kinda what I do." He crossed his arms as Arthur frowned, moving to change the positioning of a lamp. "Alright, fine. You're the photographer. What do you want me to do?"

There was a contemplative silence between the two of them as Arthur pursed his lips. It was only the two of them within the white room, rigged with lights and colored sheets and props jammed into the corners. It was a private shoot – simple, quick, easy. It was turning out not to be.

"Lay back down," Arthur quipped, stepping up to Alfred and flicking him on the chest before adjusting the undone button-up that hung loosely about the model's shoulders. Alfred complied with a mall huff, falling back and allowing his arms to spread out as if he were just a doll ready to be manipulated. "Now, what do bedroom eyes require?"

Alfred screwed up his face and said, "Well, a bed, for starters."

Arthur threw his hands into the air, his camera hanging from a thick strap around his neck, and stomped to one of the prop piles, rummaging around until he managed to find a plump, velveteen pillow and threw it at Alfred. "That's as good as you'll get. Now, an honest answer."

"Okay," Alfred started, pulling the pillow under his head, "Normally bedroom eyes come when you're about to sex someone up." He winked. "You should know all about that."

The photographer flushed a bit, his thick brows drawing down as he frowned. "Alfred, we don't have time for games. We need this shot by the end of the week. Don't fuck this up."

"Fuck," Alfred repeated languidly, tapping a finger to his lower lip and smiling. "Arthur, c'mere and I'll give you some real as hell bedroom eyes." He pat his abs with an open palm, indicating for Arthur to sit.

With a roll of his green eyes, the English photographer settled himself onto Alfred's hips, making sure to squirm in ways that were uncomfortable for the model. He lifted his camera to his face and adjusted the focus. "Now, show me those bedroom eyes."

Alfred smirked, a look that almost naturally graced his handsome face of strong lines and appealing contours. His head tilted against the plush, blue pillow and his hair seemed to fall in the perfect places, brushing across his forehead in gentle strands. Arthur bit his lower lip, keeping the camera steady even as Alfred's hands snaked to Arthur's waist, his fingers looping into the photographer's belt and tugging him closer.

"_Arthuuuurrr_," Alfred purred, "You're not doing a good job of sexing me up."

Arthur smiled. "I assure you, taking photographs of you is highly arousing."

He waited as the information slowly sunk in and Alfred's eyes fluttered half closed as a sultry smile spread across his lips. He waited until those perfect lips parted – just barely – to speak, before snapping a shot, pulling the camera away from his face with a triumphant grin. "Oh, that's not fair," Alfred whined, his hands moving to hold Arthur's hips to prevent the Briton from getting up. "I'm not even all hot and bothered yet! Take more pictures."

"More…?" Arthur mumbled questionably. "Why would I take more when we've the shot we need?"

Alfred's smile returned. "Why not? You even said so yourself. It's arousing; and maybe I want you _aroused_." He winked, his hands rubbing circles into Arthur's skin beneath his shirt and sweater vest. When Arthur made no reply, he swiftly changed tactics, groping the photographer's butt with both hands, squeezing generously. "I'll let you do _whatever _you want," he breathed.

"Hm, _anything_ you say?" Arthur asked peevishly, taking his camera back into his hands. "I was planning on using at least fifty shots this session… why not use them all, then?"

"What?" Alfred's hands dropped and he lay back in a helplessly defeated manor. "Ugh, _Arthur_, I want sex, not to sit here and model! Do have to spell it out? S-E-X!"

Arthur harrumphed. "You're so crude. I, however, will not spell out my intentions. Figure it out on your own – if you can with that fluff you call a brain." With that, he sat down heavily, pressing his groin against Alfred's, the zippers of their trousers rubbing together.

The model sighed happily, letting his head fall back against the pillow. A small click of the camera had him looking back up at Arthur with a quirked brow. "What's that about?" he asked as he reached for the button of Arthur's trousers. "You want pictures of my sex face for later?"

"Vulgar, vulgar," Arthur tatted, dropping his camera to undo the American model's jeans, sitting up to pull them off before seating himself back down. "But yes, maybe that's exactly what I want. Now, if you'd do as I say, this photo shoot will be very productive."

Alfred smiled cheekily. "Mm, okay." He held his arms over his head, licking his lips slowly. "Command me, _master_."

Arthur swallowed thickly, picking up his camera once more. "Touch yourself," he murmured, his voice becoming raspy. Fucking American charms.

Without any question, Alfred brought his hands up to his chest, his fingers tracing the edges of his pectorals and moving in slow, methodical motions, purposefully circling his nipples and paused. "Like this?" he teased, giving Arthur an obnoxious wink and a smile. When Arthur gave him no reaction, he pouted, changing tactics and licking at the pads of his fingers. "Arthur, tell me if you like it."

"...Alfred..." His voice was breathy and stunted as he attempted to sound calm and relaxed. "Alfred, for the love of... please just... listen to your _master_ and touch yourself like you mean it."

Alfred smirked tightly, giving his forefinger a generous lick, pulling the digit away and allowing a long strand of saliva to stretch and break. His smirk deepened at the snap of the camera's shutters. Alfred tapped his wet fingers against his collarbones, allowing them to crawl down his chest and to his dusky nipples, leaving small, sticky trails in their wake. "Hmm, Arthur," he moaned out, as his head fell back onto the pillow and his fingers played with his nipples.

The photographer bit his lower lip, holding his breath as he waited for another shot to line up perfectly before snapping yet another shot. He stole a glance at the feedback on the camera, a shaky breath erupting from his mouth. "You're..." the sentence died in his throat when he stumbled upon a lack of proper words to describe what he was seeing.

"Just say I'm sexy," Alfred whimpered, pinching at himself and sighing. His hips rolled up into Arthur, his unclothed groin rubbing slowly against Arthur's trousers. "Say it."

Arthur shook his head. "Sexy doesn't even begin to cover it," he replied, his eyes half closed and enticing. "You have such... allure..." He smiled. "I believe that's what I'll title this shoot: Allure." Alfred only made a choked scoff, his hips writhing beneath Arthur in an attempt for friction without being overly obvious. "Would you like something, love?" Arthur asked haughtily, pressing the fingers of one hand to Alfred's taut abs, being sure to hold the camera up steadily.

There was a gasping silence as Alfred fought with himself, his hands pulling away from his nipples and darting down towards Arthur's hand before moving back to their original locations. "Uhhnn, touch me," he pleaded at last. "Please? More... please."

"No."

Alfred gave a befuddled stare as Arthur shimmied off his his hips. "What?" His hands paused in their pleasure and he watched the photographer with a cottony confusion.

Arthur spread Alfred's legs apart, pushing his knees further away from one another and inserting himself between them. He held his camera in one hand as the other rubbed at the inside of Alfred's knee. "Touch yourself."

Their eyes locked in a moment of heated silence, saying the unsaid with nothing more than looks of lust and want. Alfred licked his palm, purposefully lapping at the skin with long strokes of his tongue, his eyes never leaving Arthur's face, despite the camera that now obstructed his view. He brought his hand down between his legs, rubbing at his partial erection before wrapping his fingers around it.

A few short clicks sounded and Arthur leaned over him, angling for a photo of his face as he pleasured himself, unable to control the expression that gripped at his face. Arthur focused the lens and waited for Alfred's eyes to close before taking the next shot. "Perfect," he purred as he checked the feedback with a small moan.

"I can't believe," Alfred started, huffing and gasping indignantly as he continued to work himself, "you get off on taking pictures."

"That's not it." Arthur looked away from the camera to Alfred's face. "Only of you. I don't think you even realize how much of an effect you create."

Alfred's fine brows furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean?" he asked after a shuddering breath.

The photographer hesitated, letting his camera fall down his neck so he could rub his hands along the tops of Alfred's thighs. "You... Of course you wouldn't notice small things about you. The simple way your mere presence changes a room, how gorgeous your smile is. Alfred, you're perfection - to me."

Alfred's smile turned small and sweet, his incredibly blue eyes blinking. "You think I'm pretty?" he gushed.

Arthur snorted and pressed a palm to his face in defeat. "And then you open your mouth." He pulled his hand from his face and undid his trousers, pulling the fabric down and exposing his erection with a sigh. "There are better things it could be doing."

"Like what?" Alfred challenged, sitting up with a tilted smile.

"You know exactly what I meant." Arthur stood on his knees, his hands reaching out and tangling into Alfred's sandy blond hair. "I'm your _master_, am I not? Do as I say and _suck_."

Alfred shuffled around until he was on his hands and knees, licking the tip of Arthur's cock. "Yes, _master_," he murmured before sliding Arthur's erection into his mouth and humming.

Arthur's breath hitched and stuck in his throat. "Ahhn..." He disentangled his fingers from Alfred's hair and grabbed his camera, focusing the lens as he panted between his gritted teeth. "Look-ngh, at me."

Alfred's blue eyes peered upwards, his cheeks hollow as he gave an exaggerated suck on Arthur's cock. Arthur bit down on his tongue and took another photo, glancing at the feedback and moaning deeply. How could someone look so handsome and put together while giving a blow job?

A laugh bubbled its way up Alfred's throat and he sputtered around Arthur's cock, spittle flinging at all directions. He pulled away and coughed. "I-I'm sorry," he choked out, "Your face was just..." He let loose a long breath. "I can't describe it," he finished lamely.

The Briton frowned heavily. Annoyed, he pushed Alfred down, crawling between his legs and covering the model with his own body. "I don't see how that's funny." Arthur bit down on Alfred's neck, licking and kissing the bronzed skin. A muffled click made him stop and Arthur cursed. "What a waste of a take," he groused, checking the feedback and sighing. Sitting back, Arthur held up his camera and took a shot of Alfred sprawled before him; flushed, wanton, and ready.

"No more playing." Arthur leaned over Alfred once more, the camera dangling from his neck and brushing across Alfred's sternum. "Can you handle it, love?" he asked, settling himself onto his knees and letting the head of his cock rub against the crease of Alfred's butt cheeks.

Alfred laughed airily. "I can take anything you throw at me," he boasted with a wink, belying the obvious rush of color that bloomed onto his face.

Arthur nodded, pushing back hair from his forehead with a sweaty hand. He took up his camera. "Spread your cheeks," he commanded. Alfred grimaced a bit but complied, reaching down and gripping the cheeks of his ass in each hand, spreading them to give Arthur a better view.

"You're perverted," Alfred said with a chuckle when he heard a couple snaps of the camera. "King of all that is pervy."

The photographer smiled. "I have yet to begin." Licking his lips he pressed the head of his cock against Alfred's entrance, taking another photo and continuing as he began pushing inside, taking a new photo in intervals. "Hn, fuck, so fucking perfect."

It wasn't until he was fully settled into Alfred that he looked up from where their bodies joined. The American's face was twisted into a look that bordered between satisfaction and strain. Arthur moved experimentally, slowly pulling out and easing back in when he felt it was okay to do so.

Arthur adjusted the angle of Alfred's hips, raising them slightly and focusing his camera onto the model's face. With a snap of his hips, Arthur thrust into Alfred, hitting his prostate after months of practice and frustration during sex. Alfred gasped, his ribs shuddering and his head tossed back. Arthur took picture after picture, trying different angles, checking the feedback with each new face that Alfred made.

Their pace was beginning to grow erratic and Arthur couldn't keep his camera still enough for a good shot, but he also didn't want to stop, either.

Alfred whined suddenly from the back of his throat. "Stop taking pictures," he cried, his arms stretching towards Arthur. "Pl-uhnn... please, c'mere..."

Arthur's breath caught, simply watching Alfred for a moment, admiring the sheen of sweat in the lamplight and the pleading furrow of his brows. He pulled the camera from around his neck and set it aside, falling forward and into Alfred's outstretched arms. Arthur buried his nose into the crook of Alfred's neck and sighed heavily through his nose, smiling at the musky scent. "Sorry, love," he mumbled, touching a kiss to Alfred's face before continuing as he had been.

Alfred writhed below him, his hands snaking under Arthur's shirt and clawing his nails into skin. Arthur reached between their bodies, grabbing a hold of Alfred's cock and began to work the American's erection until Alfred came, gripping Arthur's shoulders in a vice grip and grunting out Arthur's name tightly.

"Alfred I... I-hnnn!" Arthur came shortly after Alfred, letting the American hold him close as he rode out his climax.

His limbs felt warm and relaxed as he lay against Alfred, nuzzling his nose into the American's hair with a rare show of affection. They weren't allowed to be very obviously attached when working together, and it was nice to be able to show his American he loved him outside of home.

Alfred picked up the discarded camera, examining it lazily. "You were saying something?" he asked, his blue eyes falling onto Arthur with a serene expression.

Arthur bit his lip, the back of his knuckles trailing softly against Alfred's sticky skin. "I... I love you," he whispered with a light flush of his face.

A small click resounded throughout the small studio and Arthur blinked at the camera that was suddenly in front of his face. "And now," Alfred said with a chuckle, "I have the only picture I want."

* * *

><p>Uhhhh... yeah... uu


	9. HighFive Sex

High-Five Sex as suggested by themadnavigator

The beat of the club was tense and low, vibrating against his sweaty skin. Bodies packed tightly together on the dance floor, writhing and squirming against one another in a hypnotic, delusional trance. But despite the atmosphere, dancing was the last thing on his mind.

He pressed his way through the heaving crowd, holding his left hand down low, palm open and fingers wiggling as if to grasp at something that wasn't there. He made his rounds, swaying with shoves of shoulders and grinding absently against those that approached but didn't heed his sign.

Maybe tonight he would come out as he went in; sweaty, tipsy, and alone. He frowned, huffing and grinding, pondering his walk home until something slapped at his damp palm, tickling at the tips of his fingers and snatching away. He glanced up, catching a wide smile and sandy blond hair before someone jostled into him and he lost view of his invitee.

Grimacing he wormed his way past people, ignoring them this time, moving through them with a single minded determination. He had one goal tonight, and there was no way he would pass up this golden opportunity.

The bathroom door muted the pulsating noise of the music, the bass crawling along the floor beneath his feet. A woman sat on the lip of the furthest sink from the door, a man leaning between her legs as they made out. He paid them no notice, and they to him as the woman's legs spread further apart.

He kicked open the second stall, slipping inside and pulling his belt from his pants, wrapping it neatly and setting it on the top of the latrine. Halfway through opening the front of his trousers, the door to the stall opened and another body pressed against him, the door slamming shut and locking with a sharp click.

"Don't start without me," his invitee mumbled in a voice that was slightly higher than he'd imagined it would be after his brief glimpse earlier. Large, warm hands placed themselves on his hips and he stilled, simply waiting. Fingers, calloused and tender, slipped into the waistline of his trousers, stroking the sensitive skin just below his stomach. "I can't believe someone like you is looking for a good time like this," the other man mumbled, slowly working his trousers from his hips with jaunted tugs.

He huffed, annoyed at the attempt on conversation and slightly insulted. "How do you mean, 'someone like me'?" he asked, suspicious, pulling a condom from the back pocket of his trousers before kicking them from his feet and setting them with his belt.

There was a garbled noise from his new partner and he turned to look over his shoulder with a smoldering glare. If he hadn't been desperate tonight, he'd have half a mind to leave. "I-I didn't mean it like that! Geeze. Just… well… you're so – uhm… Most of the others are kinda ugly, yanno? A-and you're so… so… _not_."

"If that wasn't the most backhanded compliment I've ever heard," he grumbled out, not amused. He spread his legs apart, leaning against the toilet for support. "Now just shut up and finish what you came for."

Soon his boxers were around his ankles, and he stepped out of them, bending over further for better access. His partner had taken the condom from him, tearing the packaging with his teeth and pulling his half-hard erection from the open zipper of his jeans. "What's your name?" his partner asked, hands groping at his exposed bottom

and exploring his skin with curiosity.

He frowned, but held back the irritated sigh that wanted to spill from his lips. "It's Arthur, you twat. Will you please just get this on with? I feel I may suffer my death before you even begin."

The other man laughed throatily as he rolled the latex condom onto his hardening cock, stroking himself a few times. "Feisty... Awesome..." Arthur forced himself not to give a quirked smile, even though he knew the other wouldn't be able to see it. "I'm Alfred, by the way. Not that you wanna know it, but it'd be cool if you called out my name. Again, it's Alfred."

Alfred rolled his hips against Arthur's rear, the head of his cock pressing between Arthur's cheeks and nuzzling his entrance. His hands wrapped around Arthur's waist, moving to press against his stomach and coil around his cock, kneading and rubbing, bringing the limp organ into a blushing erection against Alfred's warm, calloused palm. "Ready?"

"Just do it," he snapped, pushing himself back against the tall blond.

Slowly Alfred pushed his way into Arthur, his fingers convulsing around Arthur's cock and biting at his shoulders through his thin shirt. "Mmmnn, so tight..." Alfred grunted out, easing in further and further with Arthur's mute approval.

The woman outside moaned deeply, her feminine voice catching Arthur's attention and he hoped that the sound wasn't actually himself. Alfred's, admittedly large, girth was welcomed and he gripped at the tank of the toilet, his knuckles white as he fought back gasps and cries. Alfred rocked into him, kissing at the back of his neck as his hands wandered up his shirt to tease at his nipples. "C'mon... say it..."

"Sh-shut ahh-up!" he panted through his nose, his knees wavering as Alfred continued to tease his body, steadily moving against him with strong thrusts of his hips. "I-I'm not going to...o-ohhh!" Alfred bit at the junction of his neck and shoulder, his tongue lapping at the pale skin as he began to quicken his pace.

The moist sound of sweaty skin slapping together filled the bathrooms, the pulse of the music outside an undertone to their own symphony. Arthur heard the woman keen loudly, and he ducked his head, suddenly embarrassed that he'd wished he and this Alfred were alone - perhaps in a bed, facing one another... "_Fuck_," he hissed, stopping his thoughts with the sound of his voice. "_Alfred_, just... fu-aahhck! Finish!"

Alfred's breath was at his ear, hot and wet as he whispered, "Whatever you want, _Arthur_."

His thighs quivered as the curve of Alfred's cock brushed against his prostate again and again. His breaths coming up short and ragged, stunted noises choking from his throat with the force of every one of Alfred's thrusts. Arthur hit his climax with a strangled moan, saying parts of Alfred's name between the uncontrollable flex of his throat.

Muscular arms wrapped around him, trapping Arthur in a fierce hold as Alfred pounded into his ass with everything he had, desperate for release. It took too long in Arthur's opinion, caged and smothered as he was; sticky and raw from his own climax. When Alfred finally did come, his arms locked around Arthur, his face pressing into Arthur's back with a guttural groan of, "_Arthurrrr_!" between clenched teeth.

"Oh God... God... _finally_," Alfred said as he came off his high, pulling out of Arthur with a grimace and peeling the condom from his limp cock. He tossed the used latex into the toilet before turning Arthur around to face him, examining his face with bright, gorgeously blue eyes. "Wow... even up close... you're handsome as fuck."

Arthur could feel his face flush, and he frowned at how uncomfortable it made his already too hot skin. "Shut up, you bleeding twit. Just because we had sex... it doesn't mean a _damn _thing."

"Maybe not..." Alfred set his hand on Arthur's trousers, holding them in place and preventing Arthur from putting them on and escaping. "How about I take you out for dinner? Get your number and maybe see you again?"

"M-me...?" He pulled his boxers back up, trying to remain aloof and unconcerned with his situation, but when he looked back up into Alfred's imploring -_ amazing_ - blue eyes, he felt himself swayed and glanced down. "I... I suppose dinner... wouldn't hurt..."

Alfred grinned widely, leaning forward and taking Arthur's lips into a gentle kiss. And even as they walked out of the club together, the music screaming and clawing at the walls, Arthur couldn't help but feel that this was going to be the beginning of a rather beneficial relationship.


	10. Wishes

**Wishes**

America lay back onto the cool grass, the green sprouts tickling at the backs of his ears as he stared up into the night sky. The August weather was cool and dewy in the night and he zipped up his jacket a little further when a chill overcame him.

Tonight the moon was thin, waning and pale against the stark of the black sky. There was a quick arc of light in the corner of his eye and he blinked. It was starting soon.

America sat up and looked around, frowning at the empty field around him. There was nothing to impede his view of the sky, no bright lights to shine in his eyes, no loud city noises to ruin the quiet mood of nature about him. And yet he was still alone when the shower was about to start.

With a huff he laid back down, letting his arms and legs just sprawl out ungracefully. America screwed his eyes shut, waiting for that moment when the Earth below him began to spin, feeling himself tilt with it. It was a humbling feeling. It made him feel small; normal even.

The sound of footsteps crunching the thick grasses brought him from his pseudo-meditation. "Sleeping already, America?"

He looked up into England's smirking face, patting the grass next to him with a gloved hand. "Nope, just waiting for your slow self. Did the walk tire you out, old man?"

England sat next to him, crossing his legs and leaning back onto the palms of his hands to stare up at the stars. "Mm," was all he said, choosing silence and peace over their usual bickering.

Gradually meteors began streaking across the dark sky, leaving glittering trails before disappearing once more. America edged his way closer to England, settling his head onto the other nation's thigh as they stared upwards.

"Are you going to make any wishes?" England asked after a long moment.

America shook his head. "You don't wish on meteors, England. Duh."

England only seemed amused, his hand finding its way into America's, their fingers tangling together neatly. "I see. So those shooting stars you used to sing to when you were a lad… Not the same thing, is it?"

"… No… No, of course not. I have no idea what you're talking about." America harrumphed, making himself more comfortable against England's warmth. "Besides, it's not like your wishes would come true. Magic isn't real."

"Mmhmm."

America only stared up at the meteor shower above him. He didn't need to make any more wishes. Everything he had ever wished for was right next to him.


	11. IHOP

Here's something stupid I wrote.

* * *

><p>Alfred pulled into the IHOP parking lot at exactly 2:06 a.m., his police cruiser drawing little attention in the desolate night streets. He sat in the car for a few minutes, sitting back and watching as a familiar forest green Oldsmobile passed under the green traffic lights before slowly pulling into the spot next to his, the headlights shutting off and strengthening the darkness.<p>

He smiled, opening the cruiser door and exiting into the chilly spring night. The air was still and refreshing as he inhaled deeply, stretching his sore back muscles. The other driver exited as well, closing the Oldsmobile's door with an echoing thump before locking the vehicle. "Pleasure to see you here, officer," the other man said, his smile like a crescent moon in the dim light that flooded softly from the shuttered windows of the restaurant.

"And you, too, citizen. Do you often eat this late at night?" he asked, trying to keep a straight face as the man with yellow blond hair approached him, his green eyes shining merrily.

"Only on Wednesdays; and I always have lovely company. I wonder where he is now…" The blond's eyes narrowed in false suspicion, making a show of looking around the nearly empty parking lot.

Alfred straightened, chuckling and slipping his hand into the man's for a quick squeeze. "Aw, Arthur. You know I'm always there when you need me most. I'm not your hero for nothing."

Arthur's smile widened as they made their way into the quiet of the restaurant. It was open twenty-four hours and out of the way from the main trafficked roads, and on Wednesdays at this time, their favorite waiter worked nights and he didn't mind if they held hands over the table and giggled happily as they ate.

The waiter, Feliciano, met them at the host booth, smiling brightly if not looking a bit tired. "Hello you two!" he greeted cheerfully, picking up two menus and silverware rolls. "How have you been? I hope there hasn't been any trouble for you, Officer Alfred?"

"Nah, things have been quiet this week. People seem to feel like behavin' lately." Feliciano chirped out one of his usual responses about how he was glad everyone was healthy and safe, depositing their menus and silverware into a booth seat away from the windows and ceiling vent that Arthur particularly hated at night. "So how was your day, beautiful?" Alfred asked as their hands folded into one another's over their menus.

Arthur scoffed. "Uneventful, as per usual. Unlike you, I'm not looking for something to ruin my day with." He smirked when Alfred stuck out his tongue in response. "And how about your shift so far, love? Not even a traffic violation to keep you amused so late at night?"

"Just some same old, same old. Also, thanks for meeting me out here tonight. You're probably tired from work, huh?" He reached across the table to brush his thumb across the apple of Arthur's cheek. "You didn't have to come see me."

"I wouldn't miss it," Arthur mumbled, flushing as he pulled Alfred's hand from his face as Feliciano came to their table with glasses of water and their usual drinks. "Do you guys know what you'd like? The usual?" he asked, pulling out his memo pad, unaffected by the PDA between the two men.

Arthur shook his head. "I'm not hungry tonight. Another tea would suit just fine." Alfred shot him a worried glance. "I'm fine. Simply tired is all."

The officer nodded. "The usual for me, then." Feliciano nodded and pocketed his memo pad before skipping off to the kitchen. "You gunna be okay? I'm sorry I keep making you come see me on lunch… these night shifts are killer."

An amused laughed bubbled from Arthur's throat. "Don't fret, love. It's only for a few more months. Although… I miss you at home."

Alfred gave a sad smile. "I miss you, too. That's why I'm so glad you're here now."

In the dim lighting Arthur looked perfect. His blond hair was messy and golden in the orange lights; his green sweater was pulled over his wrists as he sniffed – his nose red from the spring allergens. Alfred wished more than anything that instead of sitting in the quaint little IHOP at two in the morning, they could be at home, bundled under the blankets because he accidentally set the thermostat down too far.

Feliciano came back with another cup of tea and promises that Alfred's food would be out soon. The couple thanked him before focusing back on each other. They only had these small moments together and Alfred knew under normal circumstances that relationships would falter under such stress.

But as Arthur smiled him over the lip of his cup, Alfred knew that he would never let anything tear Arthur away from him.


	12. How's it Your Business?

USUK Business smut for whatfangirlwhere! :P

Arthur frowned in frustration as his computer whirred, sounding as if it may explode from overexertion at any moment. The screen was painted blue and what looked to be jumbled, white numbers and letters filled the monitor. He pressed the enter button; nothing. Then he tried the Esc key; nothing again. Finally he force-quit his computer, sighing in relief as the groaning and loud humming cut off. Arthur folded his arms and sat back down in his office chair. This was not turning out to be a pleasant morning.

As the department head of Marketing and Sales, Arthur felt that it was of utmost importance that he be able to access his company files – or, at the very least, check his email and send out the most recent employee memo. Quickly he called for his secretary, a meek, middle aged woman with a large rack that he didn't mind staring at on occasion.

"Katrina, I need IT support to my office, ASAP," he said curtly through the phone, sending his computer a glare simply for his own satisfaction.

His secretary coughed awkwardly and said, "Yes sir. I'll call them right away…"

Arthur nodded and hung up. He dug into his briefcase to look for something to work on while he waited in the meantime. He tapped the head of his pen against the wood of his desk, hunching over an outline of next season's ad schedules and releases. Fifteen minutes later his phone finally buzzed.

"Sir, IT is here… I'm sorry if it took too long…"

"It's fine. Please send them in."

Arthur pushed away from his desk, standing up when the door to his office opened. A tall man with flaxen blond hair and thick glasses walked inside, wearing a wide smile. "Hello. Thank you for coming," Arthur greeted, gratefully shaking the man's hand.

The tech smiled even wider. "Yeah, sure thing! It's my job and all, but it's great to see you're not gunna blow up on me or something, you caught me at a weird time, so sorry it took a bit for me to get here." He set a small bag on Arthur's desk, sitting himself in the chair and switching on the computer with ease.

"I didn't mean to inconvenience you," Arthur mumbled. He stared at the back of the tech's head for a long moment. "You don't happen to be Alfred Jones, do you?"

The tech paused. "Yeah. I am, why?" His blue eyes wandered away from the computer screen to give Arthur a weary glance over his shoulder.

Arthur smiled and flushed, glancing away with a soft cough. "Oh! I've heard… a lot about you, through the others and what have you. I've never met you in person, so I wasn't sure. I didn't want to assume."

Alfred turned his attention back to the computer's monitor. "'Heard a lot about me', huh? I hope it was good. Like how I'm a pro at everything I do." He frowned suddenly. "When was the last time your computer was defragged?"

"Uhm, I haven't a clue," the blond managed to say honestly.

A smile curled its way onto Alfred's face as he swiveled the chair around to face Arthur.

"Well, that seems like part of the problem with the start up. So I'm just gunna get that started and I'll be back, alright?"

Arthur returned Alfred's smile, shaking his hand once again as the tech began to leave. "Come back as often as you'd like," he blurted as Alfred's hand settled onto the knob of the door.

The tech glanced back at him from over his shoulder, his blue eyes at half-mast and a sultry smirk on his lips. "I think I just might have to consider that invitation, Mr. Kirkland."

Arthur nodded; his face was red and his limbs were jittery as Alfred left. For a brief moment he wondered what he had just started, but he simply shook his head. What was done was done. And this time, he didn't think he minded the consequences at all.

-o-

Alfred pressed into him, pushing him up against his desk until he was able to sit on the wooden surface, scooting back and opening his legs wide. His fingers found Alfred's black tie, wrapping into the fabric and pulling roughly, forcing Alfred into a nipping kiss.

"Hnn, Arthur, what's wrong with your computer now?" Alfred asked rhetorically as his hands wandered underneath Arthur's belt, fingers hooking into belt loops and tugging gently. Arthur gave him no answer, deciding only to pull Alfred even closer to rub their clothed groins together. "Jesus… If I had known you were so horny all the time I'd…"

Arthur gave him an expectant stare. "You'd what?" he ruffed, his voice heavy with lust. His fingers slid from Alfred's tie, down to the fly of his trousers.

Alfred smiled. "Well, actually, I think I'd be just as excited as I am now." Arthur gave a wicked grin as Alfred's trousers came undone underneath dexterous hands. Arthur palmed at his growing erection through his boxers, giving Alfred an impish look. "You like this way too much," the tech moaned out, leaning forward to press his palms against the wooden desk on either side of Arthur, his head resting against the manager's shoulder.

"You seem to be enjoying it as well," Arthur mumbled. He reached inside Alfred's boxers and pulled out his cock, stroking it in the cusp of his hand. "I honestly have no clue as to how you're not married or that sort, being as handsome and wonderful as you are."

"The same could be said for you," Alfred gasped out, his hands moved to Arthur's thighs, trailing upwards until his fingers were working open Arthur's belt and pants. "Anyone in their right mind would want a guy like you to call theirs."

Once Arthur's pants were undone, Alfred pulled the smaller blond from the desk to push down Arthur's clothes, leaving the Briton naked from the waist down. "You're just saying things now," Arthur mumbled, opening a drawer in his desk, reaching into the far back and producing a smile vial of clear liquid, which he handed over to Alfred. "No one would want me. I'm merely a burden to the average bloke, Alfred. If you knew me outside this office, I'm sure you'd think the same."

Alfred accepted the lube with a small frown. "I doubt that," he grumbled. With a practiced ease and comfort, he lubed up his fingers and began the routine of preparation. Some days he would consider it foreplay, but at times like this, when Arthur was horny and willing, spreading himself over the surface of his desk, just begging for a good fuck, Alfred wasn't sure he could resist the temptation.

"Mmnn, I'm sure… if you ever find that someone," Arthur began to say between groans and thin pants, his hips rolling against in front of him, seeking friction and pleasure, "They'd be one of the most lucky individuals ever born."

The blond tech chuckled under his breath, touching his nose to the back of Arthur's neck and breathing in huskily. "I don't know about that…"

Arthur looked back at him with green eyes, darkened with lust, and Alfred felt weak at the sensation of his stomach dropping to his knees at the sight. He opened the drawer next to Arthur and lifted the small shelf insert made for organizing paperclips and staples, pulling out a stashed condom. He ripped open the packaging and deftly rolled the condom onto his hard cock. He spread some extra lube onto the latex before pushing Arthur roughly into the desk.

With a moan, Arthur spread his legs wider, his fingers wrapping around the edges of the desk as Alfred entered him, sliding into his entrance with a wet, sticky noise. "You feel so… great," Alfred mumbled, rocking his hips into Arthur with a satisfied hum. "Every time… it's just… so great."

"Do-don't lie," Arthur mewled out as Alfred pulled out and angled himself downwards to thrust into Arthur's prostate. "You're… the one who is great."

Alfred pushed a hand between Arthur's shoulder blades, forcing the manager harshly into the desk, a paper calendar digging into his cheek as Alfred thrust into him, his pace becoming hard and quick. His hands became desperate to latch onto something, and they simply roamed around the corners of the desk, grabbing and holding the edge before moving and repeating the process. What he wouldn't give for sheets or a pillow.

He gave a shuddering moan, the pressure on his chest making it difficult to breathe, but it wasn't unwanted either. Alfred made delicious sounding grunts as his hips snapped forward; his hand on Arthur's hip, digging into pale flesh. Whoever did end up with this man, Arthur knew he would be jealous, but it was inevitable. He raised his hips a bit and adjusted his stance, attempting to meet Alfred's thrusts, wanting him deeper, closer, more of whatever he could possibly ever get.

Alfred's hand on his hip circled around and grabbed his throbbing cock, stroking him firmly as their sweaty skin slapped together with every thrust Alfred delivered. Arthur gasped, screwing his eyes shut and smacking his lips together. Alfred's hands were always warm and large and he bucked unconsciously into that inviting hand. The head of Alfred's cock struck his prostate a few more times before he finally felt himself go, the pressure of his climax suddenly releasing.

"God, you make these crazy erotic noises when you come," Alfred said hotly against his neck, bending forward and continuing as Arthur went lax against the desk, his face red and sweaty.

Arthur could almost hear Alfred's jaw clench as he hit his own climax, his hand digging into Arthur's shoulder.

When they had both caught their breath, Alfred stood up, cleaning Arthur's cum from his hand with a ball of tissues and removing his used condom. He tossed away their evidence and crumpled up a few papers to throw on top.

Arthur had to peel the paper of the desk calendar from his sweaty cheek, grimacing and pressing the paper flat once more. His eyes met Alfred's and he smiled sadly. "Ah, thank you," he mumbled as Alfred handed him his clothes. "Maybe I'll… see you again."

"Tonight." Arthur startled. Alfred's face was a serious line, his hair slightly mussed and his glasses reflected too much light. "I'll see you again tonight. For dinner."

There was a long silence between them, although in Arthur's ears he could only hear the roaring of his own heart. Alfred stepped up to him, gently setting his hand onto the curve of Arthur's cheek. "Or do you not want me outside of this office?"

Arthur gaped. How was one supposed to respond when their wildest dream came true? He lifted his hand to clasp it over Alfred's. "I would want you anywhere," he answered with a tentative smile.

Alfred grinned widely and leaned down to catch Arthur's lips. "Now that that's settled, you might need to come up with a good excuse for all our noise for your secretary. She always seems so nervous whenever I come by."

Arthur choked a bit, flushing and stuttering. "Wha-what?"

Alfred only chuckled and said, "Or maybe not. But I'm so glad you agreed, Arthur. I promise I'll make you the happiest guy in the world."

The two of them shared a smile, their hands entwining. "You already have," Arthur whispered and tucked his head beneath Alfred's chin. "That I can guarantee."


	13. Magnets

_I love you,_

_Do you know what this means?_

_It says my life is full._

_I am whole and happy._

_When your eyes, like the color of the sea_

_Turn and see me_

_I am complete._

_You might find this matter small_

_But to me, it is what_

_I live for._

_I love you._

Alfred smiled, touching the small, rectangular magnets on the refrigerator. After a few moments he opened the door and grabbed the cup of yogurt he had originally came for, chuckling to himself as he wandered into the small room that had been repurposed into an office in their two bedroom apartment.

He sidled up next to the blond that sat hunched over his computer, typing slowly, distracted. Alfred pulled the aluminum lid from the yogurt, licking the bottom before folding it in half. "Must be hard," he said to no one in particular, smiling when the blond next to him stilled, "trying to write Shakespearean poetry with fridge magnets."

"I haven't a clue as to what you mean," was the sharp reply in a stark English accent, long fingers returning to the keys of the keyboard.

Alfred laughed lightly and leaned down, kissing the side of the man's mouth gently. "I love you, Arthur. And I say that knowin' exactly what it means."

Arthur flushed; his green eyes downcast. "B-bugger off, will you? I'm trying to concentrate."

"Mhm," Alfred hummed, doing as Arthur asked and returning to the kitchen for a spoon. He pondered over the scattered magnets across the refrigerator and grinned, pushing a few around with the tip of his finger.

_I love you, too._


End file.
